President Obama and the Grand Inauguration

An inauguration for the ages. The most security, the highest entertainment value (and celebrities for what they're worth), the greatest amount of pomp and circumstance. Gleaming, hopeful millions tread the mall that they might one say say that they were there on the day a black man became President. I'm engaged. I get it. History made.  I get it.  

I'm handicapped which puts me in a minority. Historically people like me were disregarded, thrown away, committed into mental institutions, persecuted, experimented on, rejected, forgotten or killed. Even today--save the trees, save the whales, kill the children.  Man of every color, even the black man have historically given the "retard" and "crippled" little time and even less respect. Some spiritualists, dualists, Polytheists, magicians, sorcerers, and tribes around the world historically and currently believe that a baby born handicapped is curse, or may mean that the "gods" are unhappy.  

Today, I find a lot to like.  Organizations like the Make-A-Wish Foundation abound. People are generally better.  Sarah Palin found many citizens who don't and won't discriminate against her Downs Syndrome child. The handicapped tell inspiring stories.  I don't know everyone.  But I know plenty like me with Spina Bifida and plenty with handicaps of other kinds who don't whine, who are generally determined and whom provide greatness, love, joy and wisdom in their prospective circles.  Yet people say, "That's a great story," and yet those same people stare at me/us at the mall, on the street and wherever else. We don't dream of high position. Maybe now we can?  

So, yesterday was an historic day says my sister and she's right.  I am happy that Americans broke one ceiling yesterday and I'm elated for those who are now allowed to dream.  I truly am happy for all of us for that one reason.  America sufferes greatly under racism's tentacles. But one happy blogger ogled wistfully that yesterday's euphoric event brought transparency back to the White House and Oval Office.   I heard the same word on the news--Transparent.  Transparent.  Obama transparent?

Well.

Besides that President Obama's life, his political, business and religious relationships, his religion itself and his political career itself have been cloaked in shadow, I guess he's transparent enough. Despite the fact that he hasn't really had to answer the tough questions but blew them off instead, I guess he's open enough. Besides the fact that even cabinet members are somewhat suspect--one, for instance, being suspected of tax-evasion issues, another intertwined in the Blago scandal, another who rewards donors to her Husband's library, an Intelligence chief who's actually spent very little time on intelligence, and one former nominee who resigned his nomination because he's under federal investigation for "Pay-to-Play" schemes in New Mexico, Obama seems honest enough.  There are other cabinet issues as well.  Despite that there have been questions about Obama's trips to Kenya, about his attitude toward his brother there, about whether or not that constitutes "Foreign Relations" experience.  Transparent? An open book?  Despite his "Change" mantra he looks an awful lot like the previous administration--spender (Bush), emphasis on social programs (Bush), a "more of the same" Washington Cabinet (Bush), and a Vice President Biden who has proven ruthless, especially in light of Clarence Thomas and others--the very things they've accused Vice President Cheney of, ruthlessness I mean--true or not. Obama seems to stand on his own two feet...I guess. I don't really know...if you really look, no one truly knows who he is. He seems to have said a lot about not much. And some things toward which he has been clear, I'm not sure I'm happy about. Lastly, despite his vast executive and leadership experience (not really, I'm kidding), I guess I don't know exactly what we got ourselves into...not really. Even the best eyes can't see through fog.

But I'm loyal. I honor my leaders, as always. But I promise to be critical of them.  I'll be a faithful citizen as always. I won't treat Obama as unmercifully as so many treated President Bush. I posit that President Clinton's actions certainly did degrade and de-value the Oval Office as evidenced by how readily Americans and others heaped slander upon its trusses over the past eight years. People viciously and energetically degraded, derailed, ridiculed and mistreated a sitting President, President Bush--We then mustered enough energy to elect someone surrounded by shadow and clouds. What honor does that leave for the American people? Even the speeches before yesterday's inauguration were unkind toward the last administration, and the millions in the mall screamed joyfully at every disparaging word. I won't be that, but I will be critical. I know where my loyalty lies. I'm American to the bone. I love my freedom like I love fresh, cool air. We'll wait and see if Obama feels the same.

Did we elect Obama simply to break a ceiling? I doubt it. He's got a great smile.  He certainly carries confidence and swagger into the White House. Fact--the ceiling broke and that inspires me. He's black, I'm handicapped.  We don't have to think twice about that do we?  Will we stop clamoring about color? Maybe not. I'm still thankful. 

And I'm still suspect of the means to his end.

What do you know of Light?

There is never another day when you will get to see the light for the first time. To be born again--not only an apt description of the moment you first see God, it's the only one. Imagine the battle taken from dark places, a struggle ensues, a push, a gasp, a wail--your body, your head misshapen. Everything about where you were seems so warm, so right and yet for some reason you feel compelled to burst forth and all the while the blood and sweat and cries of the one who gave you birth covers you from head to toe. Lux Aurumque--turn on the light in your own home and your satisfied and glad for it. You take your steps, retrieve this or that, move through your home...it's been only moments and you've forgotten the light.

But to be born again is to know that even if you had ever seen the light before, the place you were was so dark, so heavy, so...internal, as to have forgotten light existed. The relief...the joy that comes from even a sliver leaves one feeling foreign but adopted, resplendent yet dumb-founded, like hearing a language without voice and completely unfamiliar as to never gain understanding. Like being stripped naked without feeling sacrificed but completely borne. A light not only overwhelming, but absolutely stunning--stunned into silence--stunned into such an awe-filled existence as to never again express the first day you saw light.

Let me tell you something. I've a Christmas story I'll tell you each and every year until you hear my voice. You may not believe the Christmas story, I understand that. But if you hear it told, I want you to know the full story.

You already know the story in Luke 2. A Census was called and Mary and her Husband, both descendents of King David left for Bethlehem to be counted. Mary, a virgin, was pregnant by the power of the Holy Spirit. They entered Bethlehem where the Son of God was born. Hosts of Angels visited Shepherds in the night and announced the birth. Folklore tell us that a sweet Choir of happy angels visited the Shepherds and while the Shepherds lay face down on the ground the Angels enjoyed a little sing-a-long. Fat baby angel swirling around the sky firing rubber "joy" arrows at the Shepherds.

Until you read the story told in Revelation 12. Satan, a mighty dragon waited at the doorstep of the birth so that he might kill the Christ. But God's Angels were there and they swooped Him up to Heaven while his mother fled to safety in the desert. A mighty war ensued in the heavens...a battle greater than all wars in time and space put together. Michael and his soldiers, God's Army, commanded to surround God's son at his birth and take him to his Father in Heaven. He would not be devoured by Satan under any circumstances. The one task complete, God turned towards Satan and directed His army at them. They swooped into the battlefield with such fury as to shake the heavens and God's army conquered the Devil's army with might and surety. Satan and the other angels were all hurled to earth--the place where Satan himself tried to murder the mother of the Christ. When she escaped Satan vowed to reek havoc on her offspring, namely those who are adopted children of Light...those who know God...and those who, as with His son, shall never be taken. Yet Satan vows to bring you misery and hopes to take you to such dark places where even your own fingers float into memory.

Luke 2 says that a host of angels appeared before the Shepherds and that they were very much afraid. If Angels, weapons gleaming, armed to the teeth, appeared before you, would you not fall prostrate? DO YOU HEAR ME? They asked. "Do not fear", they said, "We mean you no harm."

"Glory to God in the Highest" they said. It's like the confident cry of the United States Marines..."Hoo-rahh" they say, Semper Fi. A group of men and women so ardently in love with their country, so beholden to their task, patriotic to the bone...hoo-rahh. Take that times a million, maybe more. A race of Angels persistently, joyfully and without a second thought lift their voices in the most joyful, fierce, loyal, proud, yet humble cry of any age up until this very day. Listen...I said LISTEN--"GLORY TO GOD IN THE HIGHEST AND ON EARTH PEACE ON WHOM HIS FAVOR RESTS!" Angels, battle hardened angels, honed their skills, ripped their muscles and sharpened their tools--hoo-rahh, Glory to God in the Highest, Hoo-rahh. The greatest war of any time and space would occur..."DO YOU HEAR ME?" They would knock Satan's guts straight out his back...

And we have them "Sweetly singing oe'r the plain." No. Absurd. NO! NO! A host is an army and by all that lives and breathes an eternal war raged amongst beings whose strength we could never comprehend, acting as a language no man could even recognize as such, and even so, scripture says that they were sent to serve us.

Sweetly singing. Comical. Cute. But untrue.

Some of you might not believe the story told in Scripture. In my opinion Santa's harder to believe than the story of the birth of Christ God's Son.  But even then, should you hear the story of Christ's birth told this year, keep in mind that, at least for me, I'm glad the full Angelic power showed up that night.  Ripped, ironclad Hosts drew their most powerful weapons and witnessed God's son enter Earth. I would've fallen over too.

What do you know of light?

I'll tell the story again next year.

Merry Christmas.